A Tavern by Another Name

College life in the East Village is something taken for granted. Yes you're going to get drunk at Off the Wagon and stumble into the tattoo pallor across the street (relax, it was a piercing). But do you ever think to make an actual reservation for good food? No, past Laura, you are an idiot. For Minetta Tavern, growing older is a thing I cherish. When you're 22 you drunkenly sit at the bar, drink old fashions, and don't order food. You are, in all sense of the word, an idiot. When you're 26 you make reservations, order a carefully pre-meditated meal and enjoy life. Ah... the simplicity of old age.

Thank God/Allah/Tom Cruise for the maturation process. Anyway.

For years I've been eyeing the black label burger, now that I no longer need to feel guilty about spending more than $20 on a burger, I was finally able to indulge in a life long dream. Yes life long. I was once, at 4 years-old, yelling at the waiter to bring me drawn butter for my crab legs. This is not an exaggeration. So what do I do? In true Laura fashion, I fuck up. I order the French Dip.

Now, now, now, reader. don't get on your high horse and start telling me about how the last meal out you were at KFC. I am not you. My body literally has a physical aversion to franchised/poor quality food. I should have ordered the damn burger. But I don't feel regret. There is no, should I say, meal FOMO experienced. Did I just unlock Minetta's hidden gem? Was I just drunk? Was it the duck hash (which is fantastic) that had me enamored? No. Culotte steak, sliced to order on a garlic butter smeared with pan drippings to dip into was so yummy. My favorite sandwich transformed. The pan drippings mimic New Orleans' debris, which is an extremely high compliment. The garlic butter toast melted in your mouth.

Fine I did have two bites of the black label burger and it was mind blowing. I can actually still taste the perfect balance of fat and meat. Obviously, I'd never dine without forcing someone else to share half their meal with me.


So readers, getting older isn't so bad, especially when it comes to the foodie game. Except now you have to exercise after.

A Brunch To Remember

Well hello there. Let's just pretend my neglect over the past few years hasn't happened. I'm like the ex who you run into at The Royal, and realize how you should have never left at all.

I must admit, I have begun to feel a bit disenchanted lately. 26, still live with parents in a borough I dislike, and realizing how quickly I passed the milestones I once took for granted, has left me a bit sadden and frustrated. So, naturally, I needed a good meal. 

Step in, Jane. A west village staple, reminding me that my NYU years might be over, but my love for NYC is omnipresent. A classic store front and a cozy bar area when you first arrive, had reignited what seemed lackluster in my recent years. Classic New York. A good cup of coffee, a solid cocktail, and some hollandaise seemed to cure my now-entering-late-20s blues.

Jane brunch does something that most brunches should - a free cocktail. Yes, I want need some vodka in my OJ. Doesn't every one around noon? Drinks were delicious, and the coffee was strong. I insisted on calling the strawberry butter that accompanied our bread "dip", to rationalize my over consumption. After all, I'm almost 27, have an ulcer, a slight liver issue, and am on a "low fat diet" as per my doctor. The Dante's Inferno of prognoses for a foodie. Back on track... The benedict Jane - poached eggs, crab and crawfish cakes, spinach, and tarragon hollandaise - was on point. Not overly heavy, but rich and flavorful. My boyfriend had the benedict Johnny - crispy grits, maple chicken sausage, poached egg, and roasted tomato hollandaise - as we usually order adorable, counterpart meals. Though I preferred the Jane, the Johnny was equally delicious. 

Brunch has a connection with me, that maybe most people don't understand. It's therapeutic. I love New York, specifically Manhattan, and had almost lost track of that part of myself. Nothing a little hollandaise and screwdrivers can't fix.

If bbq were a religion, this would be the holiest day of the year (BBQ Fest 2011)

I have recently learned that my sister isn't the only person who reads this blog, so hello all you readers. I promise to now write every week since I have lots and lots to share with you... that and megashare won't stream more than 72minutes of video. Not cool.

This past weekend was one of my most favorite weekends of the year, and no I'm not talking talking about Flag Day (which has now apparently been extended to a week). I'm talking about the one time of year when it is socially acceptable to wander down Madison Ave chomping on a short rib bigger than your face while wearing paper pig ear hat. That's right kids it's the The Big Apple Barbeque Block Party.

The 9th consecutive year (and my third), the Big Apple BBQ isn't so much a "block party" as a "let's shut down Madison Sq Park and the surrounding streets so we can all be fat asses" party. It's glorious. This year SIXTEEN pitmasters from 11 different states barbecued some delish food .. all for me! Well, and the 100,000 other people the BABBQ attracts. Since I'm already accustom to waiting on long lines in MSPark (see Shake Shack post), the lines for some brisket and slaw seemed like nothing. My favorite: Baby back ribs by Mike Mills from 17th Street Bar & Grill in Murphysboro, IL. The type of rib that's soo good you don't split evenly with your boyfriend. The type you take another bite when he's not looking and curse the damn "let's share plates" suggestion that suddenly feels like a harsh decree formed in the Middle Ages -- THAT GOOD!


Additionally, for those of you who also have an obese man living inside of them like me, the Shack is open during the entire event! Nothing goes better with some short ribs than a root beer float and a Shackmeister ale.


Here is the info... just um, don't buy a fast past next year. I want it. Thanks.



*****went to fix a spelling error and now blog is out of order BUT this does NOT mean I am not going to post about BBQ 2012*** thanks

It's not easy being green... with envy towards those eating at Red Farm right now

I've mentioned before that I like to exploit my boyfriend's celebrations into dinners for myself. Now, I don't want to sound callous -- I convince him that the restaurant of choice was entirely his idea. For his 25th birthday, we (me) decided to combine our love for Asian cuisine and small, trendy atmospheres. But where to? Hadn't our favorite restaurant closed years ago? There's a saying that "time heals all wounds", but there will forever be a lacking in my palate and heart.

Until Now. Until Red Farm. I'm not saying Red Farm will replace Kampuchea, but I know our love affair will last. Though Kampuchea was short lived and passionate, my now heart-broken palate is more wise and aware of those it now falls for.

Anyway, despite the almost hour long wait, Red Farm was still a wonderful experience. We decided to share plates, as if Chris had a choice. We started with spicy crispy beef, duck and fuji apple wrap, shrimp and snow pea leaf dumplings, and pan fried pork buns. Yes, yes, four appetizers seems like a lot of food for two people. This is supposed to be a judgement free zone, reader.  Anyway, my favorite of the bunch was the spicy crispy beef - it sounds like it would be mundane, but I assure you it is a dish worth trying. Those crispy little suckers are amazing. Chris' favorite (and my second favorite) was the shrimp snow pea leaf dumlpings. While they were delicious, I thought their appearance was a little disturbing since the dumplings were made to look like they had eyes. Our main courses were purely delicious. I had the crispy skin chicken with garlic sauce, which tasted like pure gold. A little party in my mouth. I may or may not have found my new love. All I know is that I cannot wait to return.

It's not just me, right?

The dumplings KNOW I want to eat them.

Red Farm

29 Hudson Street

(btwn Charles and W 10th)

http://redfarmnyc.com/

Promises, Promises

Well hello there. I know I've been elusive and the entire internet was on the verge of collapse without my blog. I'm sorry, dear reader. BUT GREAT NEWS - I'm finished with graduate school! Well, almost... I still have unpaid fieldworks until December-ish, meaning any hopes of this blog becoming classy will have to wait until AT LEAST next calendar year.

Because right now this is the amount of class I have.

Class being inversely related to money borrowed from the government and parents.

But hooray me! I'm not worried at all.
Anyway, here is a run down of some posts I **promise** over the next few weeks:

• Extra Virgin
• Red Farm
• Sofrito
• Apiary
• Big Gay Ice Cream
• Nomville: A Tribute to Nashville
• Stone Park Cafe
• Smorgasburg
• Big Apple BBQ 2012
• much more .... well maybe

Speaking ze Smorgasburg, I ran into the most AMAZING greeting card maker yesterday at a flea market on N 7th in Williamsburg. I think everyone should take a peek at her website (her being Sam) : supergrEATgreetings.com. I'm obsessed with her cards (and a little bit with Sam) and hope you will be too.

So stay tuned and SUBSCRIBE!

I'm Going Going Back Back to Back Forty FORTAYYYY

What up home slices? I know, I've been neglectful as per usual. In my defense I was stuck in a few extra days Florida due to the hurricane.... two months ago..... err yea...


Anyway, jumping to something completely different, fall might not be my favorite season, however it is a great time of year for brunch. Yes, I'm sure that I've written that about every other time of year, but just roll with it. While Manhattan is a large borough, my favorite 'hood for a cup of coffee and something delicious on a Sunday at high noon is the East Village/LES. Maybe it's just my favorite area in general because I fit in with the ironic twentysomethings that teeter the line between hipster and awkwardly amazing. Ray-bans, Vampire Weekend, and MK watches anyone?


Unfortunately, there's a lot of hungry hipsters, hippies, homies, happies, and hippos in the EV. After once being told that the wait for Clinton St. Baking Co. was "hours" - no not an hour, not two hours, just "hours"- I decided I needed a plan. I suddenly had an epiphany - why put your name on one list when you can put it on two? So that's what I did. First stop, as always, was Prune. Hour and a half wait? No biggie, I had already planned to run the 15 or so blocks to Back Forty and attempt to get in there. I may not be religious but God/Buddha/Allah/Tom Cruise must have known the extent of my hunger because at 12:15pm on a Sunday I was able to get a table for two RIGHT AWAY. No, I'm not kidding. I couldn't believe it either.


Scanning the menu caused a little confusion - do I want eggs? No no, maybe a burger? Maybe some doughnuts? why does EVERYTHING sound so good? PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN! I took a deep breath and was finally able to find exactly what I was looking for: Brisket with a yucca hash. Amazing, and also a nice deviation from the usual corn pancake pairing. Focusing my energy on rearranging my utensils, I anxiously waited for the first bite. Delicious. The brisket fell apart with the touch of my fork. Perfectly fried eggs sat atop the dish, longing to be blended into the brisket, yucca, bread and red onion mixture. Each bite was divine. Chris had ordered the soft scrambled eggs and romesco with peas, sweet corn, ricotta, and bread. Perfectly cooked eggs with a balance of sweet and salty from the corn, peas and ricotta. It was delicious, but mine was better.


And for that, Back Forty, I thank you. Even though I know next week you'll probably have at least an hour wait and I'll be forced to run around the EV.

'Tis the Voice of the Lobster

Lewis Carroll has nothing on me.... well maybe a famed writing career, mathematical conquests, and a myth about pedophiliac suggestions in his literature. But, I am better off than Lewis Carroll. You may at this point be asking for a sense of relevancy and be thinking "what the fuck". Let me explain:
I live in the present. I am able to eat at Ed's Lobster Bar. Lewis Carroll does and is not. Therefore, I am better. A simple axiom.

After scouring Michelin's Bib Gourmand list, lobster seemed the be a perfect treat on a hot summer day. Since I'm not white enough to have a summer house in Maine, Ed's would have to do. A small storefront across from the 6 train, the restaurant has a 1950's soda bar feel to the decor - pristine, homey, and inviting. The menu consists of various shellfish items, with a section dedicated to all things lobster. Yum.

Some may find it hard to decide between the shelly choices, but I knew immediately what I wanted - a lobster roll. Not ordering one would have been like leaving half a pint of beer unfinished. You just don't do that.

While lobster rolls are some of my favorite goodies, I haven't had one that satiated me quite the way James Hook & Co in Boston had.... that is, until now. One thing was for sure - SIZE MATTERS. Ed's was great AND there's enough to fill you - unlike some other great lobster rolls that are meagerly sized and leave you frustrated, wanting more. The roll was buttered and crisped to perfection. The lobster meat was ample. Vinegar soaked pickles and a side of fries accompanied the roll. The pickles were a nice acidic cut to the fattiness of the lobster roll. I also tried some of my friend's lobster pot pie, which was basically flakey pastry in lobster bisque awesomeness. A little salty but sooooo yummy.

Since the waiter/bartender was super nice, I trusted his dessert suggestion. We had an ice cream sandwich which was basically homemade vanilla ice cream on the same buttered roll used for the lobster roll. Yes mom, ice cream on a buttered roll. While it may not have been the healthiest thing I've eaten, it definitely was delicious.

Now reader, I do my research. I've seen some mixed reviews online about the lobster rolls, but TRUST ME. I'd almost never let you down.

Challenge Accepted.

Each year, I await the day that I wake up with a present so marvelous and enticing, the previous night's sleep is interrupted. No, I'm not talking about Christmas. I gave up on Santa around age 3 (the guy in the red suit at our holiday dinner looked a little too much like my father). No, no.. not my birthday... I'm talking about the release of the NYC Michelin Guide.

While I would love to eat wagyu beef and a rack of lamb at Le Bernardin, I have to keep myself on somewhat of a budget. Never to fear reader, Michelin loves all types of people, including poor hippies who want to work with children like myself. Enter: Michelin Bib Gourmand.

Never heard of it? Well I am EXTREMELY sorry. Putting it lightly, your life must suck.

Bib Gourmand is Michelin's list of delicious restaurants that average $40 or less per meal. Now that I have some time off from school, I've decided to try some restaurants on the list. I know I'm a flakey blogger but I will try to keep you posted on my adventures.

Emphasis on the "try" -- I need to improve my Words with Friends skills.

Brunch: A Modern Marvel

On random Sundays, I force my boyfriend to take me to brunch so I can eat eggs and some of whatever he ordered at 1pm to nurse my hangover. Brunch is one of the best creations modern man has ever constructed. Some other things in the category with brunch naturally include the wheel, the internet, the light bulb, and Toddlers and Tiaras. Obviously.

This past Sunday began no different than any other brunch Sunday. I woke from my dream of sugar plums (with a side of cornbread hash) dancing in my head, planned to annoy Chris until he woke up, and pondered how I wanted my eggs. Did I even want eggs? Maybe I'd go for more the "unch" side. Or maybe I'd get some french toast. Who knows! That's the crazy thing about brunch, you could have anything you want. Oh brunch....

Now, I do owe you a brunch themed week so I can banter about all of the glorious things I have eaten early Sunday afternoons but right now, I'm just going to focus on my most recent endeavor: Cookshop.

You might be thinking "what an adorable name!" as I did. That's because Cookshop is a happy place and happy places are named happy names. Some of you may remember my Five Points mishap. Since I wanted to redeem myself and Cookshop is also owned by Marc Meyer, Vicki Freeman and Chris Paraskevaides, I felt that this was my chance.

After scanning the menu and having a mini-crisis about what to order - eggs or french toast OH THE PRESSURE! - I decided on the Cookshop Scramble (caramelized onions, creme fraiche, chives, and pork sausage with a buttermilk biscuit) and Chris ordered walnut-raisin french toast with vanilla-mascarpone cream, toasted almonds, and strawberries. "They had me at mascarpone," he joked. Comments like that are why we're together. Adorable.

While I acted interested in our conversation, all I really could focus on was taking that first bite. After all, it is my favorite of the bites. And then it came. Delicious. Though I probably could have put some of the scramble on the biscuit and eat it like a sandwich, I choose to cut it up and mix it in the goodness. Best decision I'd made in days. Naturally, I asked Chris for some of his food while trying to look as innocent as possible. It worked and the french toast was also freaking delicious.

I kind of wanted to hug the waitress, demand I meet the chef, and cry to him about how thankful my taste buds were... but you know, that's not socially acceptable.

Not yet anyway.

PS Cookshop is right across from the 20th st entrance to the Highline. Food and fun!

Ευχαριστώ, Pylos

You caught me. I lied to you, reader. I know I promised more frequent posts but I still made you wait.... patience is a virtue. I was clearly testing your authenticity as a human.

Now, as some of you may not know, I love all things Greek. From their affinity for the olive to my friend Constantine's ridiculously beautiful hair - the Greeks could teach us Americans a thing or two about living the good life. So when my friend shared that we were going to Pylos for her birthday, I was ecstatic... maybe a little too much. These are new friends, I should try to hide the odd side of me. But Pylos? COME ON! Ever since my sister moved to the East Village, I've been waiting for the day I'd eat at Pylos. I was excited.

I met my friends - and besides for the self-loathing woman next to us out for her anniversary with the husband she clearly abhorred - all was perfect. Once our Greek friend arrived, we were ready to order. Think I'd go without a Greek? Yea, okay. Now, I cannot stress how effing delicious each morsel was. For appetizers, we shared a little of everything with one another since we all were gaga over the dishes. My personal favorites were the anginares moussaka (artichoke moussaka) and soutzoukakia smyrneika (awesome meatball things, yea don't try to pronounce it - that's why we invited a Greek). As per my friend's suggestion, I ordered the arni kotsi me meli, gigantes skordalia kai psiti tomata, which roughly translates into huge lamb shank awesomeness with bean puree and ridiculous roasted tomatoes. So maybe I added an adjective or two. You get the point.

I had to leave dinner early to visit my newly engaged friend and oogle her ring. I was a little sad.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

The Day I Broke My Own Heart

Oh reader... Reader, reader, reader. Some times even the smartest of people, like myself, make the biggest mistakes. Not since one of the few times I faked a "go with the flow" attitude which led to me and my friends missing our flight to New Orleans have I been so disappointed in myself - in case you're wondering, we made it on the next flight and it was awesome.



Last Friday, I decided to meet my boyfriend for dinner after I coerced my sister into picking up a dress for me and was going to "meet her" to help her travel home. Obviously I needed to eat before I could help her carry my packages. Chris and I wandered into Five Points after ogling the menu on menupages. Thank (insert name of respective Higher Power here), for smart phones! As we debated whether or not to sit inside or out, something wonderful happened...... I smelled something amazing and instantly I smiled. White truffles. I'd always recognize that smell.

We sat down at one of the tables by the bar and glanced at the menu. Potato and truffle pizza? Why did that sound familiar? Did I really want pizza? Could I even eat something that heavy and still fit into the dress that I had to track down in two states and three boroughs? No.... I was no longer intrigued by the truffle dish, my mind had jumped to another entrée that sounded awesome. We ordered the frito misto for an appetizer, Chris had the spinach pizza with crescenza cheese, pecorino cheese, and garlic confit, and I ordered the homemade semolina spaghetti, with littleneck clams, white wine, and chili. I was excited. Semolina is basically my middle name and I LOVE clams.

Then it happened - I felt regret... the same regret I felt when I decided not to buy myself a Fendi while in Sicily back in 2005. I knew I'd never let myself down. The food came and it was delicious. The fritto misto had different veggies, shellfish, and cod. We ate, talked, and laughed, but I still felt a little saddened by my decision. Chris was supportive; it was difficult for him to turn down truffles too. I assured myself that it wasn't like I missed shaved black truffle... it was white truffle oil... totally different..

Our entrées arrived and they were delicious. The broth that the clams had been cooked in was a perfect compliment to the semolina pasta that tasted as if they stole a nonna and only let her eat if she sat in the back and made pasta all day. The waiter then came over to talk to us about desserts. Fine, Five Points. You and your fantastic food win. I'll stop my whining and enjoy my salted caramel gelato.

Five Points
31 Great Jones St
(between Lafayette St & Bowery)

It's not really spring in NY until it's warm enough to stand on the Shake Shack line

While the 80 degree weather and the fact that tomorrow is June 1st may make the title of this post seem horrifyingly late, it is a truth accepted by most New Yorkers. Now that that's settled, let's talk about something of the utmost importance: Shake Shack.

A New York staple, I first stumbled upon the Shack as a college junior while walking through Madison Sq Park to go to an internship. My first thought, "why are all these people waiting on line?", was quickly followed by my second thought, "I want some too". Since my first tasting of the Shack, I have been hooked. Not hooked, addicted. While the shack menu boasts multiple choices, I stick to the Shack Burger and cheese fries. After all, people aren't waiting over an hour on line in the heat for Shack-cago Dog. Or maybe they are.... But I can't get myself to order anything else (except adding an Arnold Palmer or a concrete) because while MGMT sings about drugs, I'm singing (and occasionally dancing) about the Shack Burger.

Yes I make fun of franchised food a lot but Shake Shack doesn't really count. The company uses mainly local ingredients, sells alcohol, and the staff looks is happy. When was the last time a server at McDonald's told you that their custard of the day was (and I quote) "SOOOO yummy"? Plus the more locations, the more people around the world can enjoy the Shack and the bigger the chance that the line isn't ridiculously long.

While I'm sure the other Shake Shack locations are still ridiculously good, I'm loyal to Madison Sq Park. Even though there are different concretes at each location, it's still not enough of an incentive for me. I love the MSP location: the website shows how long the line is so I can prepare myself accordingly and it's effing powered by wind! It's my first, my last, my everything.

P.S. Shack-tastic slang you should know:
a) concrete: custard mixed with yummy toppings blended super fast, making it strangely thick and extra delicious
b) Shack Burger: the greatest burger ever made
c)Poochinis: custard that dogs can eat... that's right, the Shack cares about your dog too

Shake Shack
www.shakeshack.com for locations

abc-DBGB-efg

As part of my "PLAYING CATSUP (CATCH UP, get it? Oh.... I made this awkward) Series", I owe you quite a bit of yummy banter. For example, a report from my cousin's going away party in December and yummy brunch dates. I know... I KNOW! Shake your head all you want, Vanessa. Some of us have been busy doing important things, like unfriending people with babies on FB and chatting up the Starbucks barrista in hopes of a discount.

Recently, my cousin Ali decided to attend culinary school in Paris. While I don't doubt that she would have eventually figured out that she'd be a great chef, I do have to note that her decision to leave was quickly made after I beat her in Scrabble and then forced her to watch a "Sister Wives" marathon, whilst snuggling up on her arm. As she also inherited the foodie gene, her friend quickly planned a going away dinner. Now, you might be thinking "why the hell do I care about a going away dinner?". Two reasons: 1)DBGB has awesome food and 2) I said so.

 As a typical gastropub, DBGB serves jazzed up burgers, soups, and other classics. Untypical of other gastropubs, DBGB is Daniel Boulud's proof that he can turn regular food and into a dish that you literally will have dreams about for weeks. Additionally, any place with a 29 page beer and wine menu is worth talking about.

As I usually approach a restaurant after doing a substantial amount of research, I was well prepared for my night at DBGB -- until I got there and immediately wanted everything on the menu. Soon my mind was panic stricken. How is it possible to choose between the Frenchie or the Piggie? Can I flip a coin? Maybe I'll get mussels.. who am I kidding? Oh, there's lamb! I quickly scanned the drink menu, ordered myself a Session Lager (delish!) and collected my thoughts. Now now, you know you want the matzoh ball soup and everyone's getting the Piggie so you can steal a bite of theirs and get the Frenchie all to yourself... Decision made.

Reader, I may or may not have previously mentioned my strange love of all things soupy. Whether it's Top Ramen or the chicken noodle soup at Morimoto, I love soup. Perhaps I never fully got over my phase of only eating soup or canned black olives (yummy and metallic!) that I had when I was three. Whatever the reason, I was super excited when the waiter brought my soup. This soup, I feel, epitomizes the reason gastropubs are so fucking fantastic. Something so mundane as matzoh ball soup is made delectable. Don't believe me? Well this soup is so good that NY Mag listed it as one of the city's 50 tastiest soups. So there. I may not have a bubbie, but if I did this soup would be better than her's (of course, I wouldn't have the heart to tell her).

DBGB also knows how to cook a burger. I may have only had a few bites of the Piggie, but I know that I will crave that burger sporadically for the rest of my life. The Piggie, a burger topped with Daisy May's pulled pork, jalapeno mayo, and lettuce on a cheddar bun, makes your backyard grill jealous. But, there's a better burger on the menu. Now, ordering the Frenchie may have been one of the best decisions I've made in a while. The Frenchie - topped with confit pork belly, arugula, tomato-onion compote, and morbier cheese -  is a superior burger. And I had it all to myself. There were a few seconds where I nervously thought my sister would have wanted a bite, but she is also cursed with being petite and decided to concentrate on her own food. CLOSE CALL.


DBGB
299 Bowery
New York, NY

I may not be that social but Stanton is

Hello readers. I know all three of you have been anxiously awaiting my newest post, grinding your teeth in suspense. Between grad school, catching up on Fringe, and sleeping, time has really flown by in between my posts. For that, I am sorry. Please forward me the bill for the meds you've been taking to deal with my absence.

Anyway, after my vacation to Paris then my boyfriend's business trip to California, we needed to have a date to spend some alone time with our threesome partner, Good Food. I've been itching to go to Stanton Social for a few weeks ever since my sister suggested we double date. Like the great sister that I am, I decided that we should go to Stanton Social without her and her new guy since reservations for two are soooo much easier to get than for four. Sorry sis, but between you and a good meal, I will most likely choose the latter. Now reader, by now you're familiar with my proclivity of using abbreviations, but something feels inherently wrong with praising "the SS" several times in a post, so bare with me.

A few $3 Stellas later (thank you Epstein's), Chris and I walked into Stanton Social. For those of you unfamiliar with the restaurant, S Soc is the love child of chef Chris Santos, Richard Wolf, and Peter Kane that serves up tapas style revamped American classics. Sound awesome? That's because it is.
Since the tapas sized portions allows for tasting more of the menu, Chris and I avoided our usual debate over which dishes to get which usually evolves into tension. Again, I wish I were a true fat kid and not just one trapped in a petite frame... oh the places I could go! We both agreed that 5 dishes would probably satiate the both of us and leave some room for dessert, considering I only ate a slice of cheese and three crackers that day in preparation for dinner. Eliminating some dishes were tough so we ordered more than we originally planned: french onion soup dumplings, red snapper tacos, barbecued duck confit and black bean empanadas, crabcake corn dogs, and two sliders (the Kobe Philly and the Rhode Island style lobster roll). Oh helllllll yeah.

Now, I'm not saying I was disappointed because I wasn't. The food was fantastic. But one thing bothered me - the FOS dumplings. Mr. Santos, I appreciate that you combined two of my favorite foods and amplified their flavor by creating some hybrid awesomefood but these are not french onion soup dumplings. They are french onion dumplings. When I see the words soup and dumplings in the same menu item description, I expect to have to strategically bite into the dumpling to suck out the soup. It's common sense, dude. However, Mr. Santos, the flavor was impeccable and I respect the added note of the toasted crouton. Bravo. Moving on, the crab cake corn dog was very tasty and the presentation was clever, but I expected a bit more of that deep fried crunch indicative of corn dog culture and the empanadas were more beany than ducky, which was a little bit of a let down. But I will give you crazy mad props for those sliders. Kobe beef, truffle, and goat cheese?! Genius. AND THAT LOBSTER ROLL! Me and my taste buds are forever in debt to StantSo.

Now we did get some crazy chocolate dessert thing for two that was HUGE. Chris being a great boyfriend understands that I'm very territorial when it comes to my food and I don't like to share, so he ordered some gigantic dessert thing. But, alas, I was full thanks to my inadequately sized stomach. Such hardships in life; this too shall pass. But, dear reader, by now you have also probably realized that I'm a lush and enjoy sucking back $13 cocktails, and I can say that StntScl has great cocktail choices. In the words of my father, "if there's no gin, I'm leaving", therefore I naturally ordered the Bea's Gin-Lemon Mojito, made with Bombay Sapphire, mint, and lemon -- tart and fabulous.

Yes it's difficult to get reservations but there is a trick - the upstairs bar offers a similar menu and doesn't necessarily require reservations if you get there early enough....

Stanton Social
99 Stanton Street
New York, NY
http://www.thestantonsocial.com/menus/food_menu.html

Disgusting dating vs Degustation Reciprodating (I'd put my money on the latter)

There are several perks to being in a somewhat functioning relationship: compliments, presents for the holidays, someone to open jars/water bottles that are too tight, and some other reasons that I can't list here since several one family member reads this blog. However, these qualities are nothing if your significant other is incapable of reciprodating. What is reciprodating? Well, dear reader, reciprodating is showing emotion through a well thought out and planned date. Why does this sound mockingly simple? Because it is. But I am in my early twenties and men in their early twenties seem to lack some cognitive functioning - primarily organizing and prioritizing (Occupational Therapy Practice Framework, 2002). While I'm a huge fan of walking aimlessly around and having a spontaneous "oh hey this menu looks good" night, I could do that with anyone and feel special. HOWEVER, when I am reciprodated for purely being a great girlfriend well than I am inclined to feel even more special. This is where a great meal comes into play. Whether it's been 2 dates, 2 years, or 2 decades, a great dinner can always impress your significant other. While New York is filled with plenty of delicious restaurants that draw from cuisines from around the world, I am going to convince you that Degustation, a tapas restaurant, was one of my favorite reciprodates. Ever.

Now reader, I often write about food and maybe crack a joke or two at other aspects of the restaurant but, one thing to never joke about on a reciprodate is ambiance. The setting of the restaurant sets the tone for the date. I've recently had one of the best meals in my life (see Blue Hill) but the setting was not reciprodate-like, it was date-like or dinner-with-friends-like. On the other hand, Degustation seats sixteen people only, as the chairs surround the kitchen area. Not only is the space inherently intimate, watching your food being prepared is exciting enough to fuel the entirety of the dinner conversation. Reciprodating is a team sport. Therefore, the idea of tapas and small plate encourages sharing. Reciprodating requires excitement, so bring on the use of molecular gastronomy via the tasting menu. Degustation has two tasting menu choices - five or ten courses - offered at a somewhat reasonable price.

We opted for the 5 course menu ($50 per person) which consisted of hamachi, arugula salad with a perfectly cooked egg, clams and cannelloni, rabbit three ways, and a custard on crack and something deliciously s'more-like as dessert choices. I;m teasing you with a brief synopsis of the food because the tasting menu changes on a weekly basis and will most likely not be the same if you choose to dine at Degustation. But I will say this - hands down, best fried rabbit meatball I have ever had... okay so only fried rabbit meatball I've ever had, but you get the point.

P.S. I almost cried when I ate some of the perfectly poached egg... no, seriously...

Degustation Wine & Tasting Bar

239 East 5th Street

New York, NY

(212) 979-1012

Why Yes, I Would Like Some Locally Farmed Awesomeness.

Now readers (hi mom!), I don't want you think I am a food snob. I want you to know that I am a food snob. I crossed the border from foodie to snob when I gave my brother a nasty look for suggesting we eat at the Cheesecake Factory without any conscious thought. Franchised food? DON'T YOU KNOW IT MAKES MY HANDS SWELL AND CAUSE ME INSATIABLE THIRST?!... again, I am a food snob.

My boyfriend's new job gave me an excuse to take my food snobbery to a higher level. I was going to take me him out for a congratulatory dinner and since he enables my food obsession, I got to choose the place. Yes, yes maybe he should have chosen, but what's done is done, reader. After all, I choose a marvelous place: Blue Hill.

You may be asking:
"Laura, isn't it really hard to get reservations?"
- By some divine providence, an 8:30pm reservation for two popped up on my OpenTable account. Clearly, God/Allah/Buddah/Tom Cruise wanted me to eat there.
"Isn't it a bit out of your price range? Student loans aren't free money"
- 1)Yes, student loans ARE free money since I will win the lottery, and 2) It didn't cost that much.

Back to the food. For those of you who aren't food snobs, Blue Hill is an amazing tag team of farms and restaurants based in Massachusetts (Blue Hill Farm), Westchester (Blue Hill: Stone Barns) and the West Village. There is little gap from farm to table, making each ingredient more delicious than anything you have ever tasted. For an appetizer I had braised fennel with smoked apples and roasted fennel with, get this, HOMEMADE pancetta ($16). For an entree, I had pan seared duck with shittake mushrooms, a gingerbread sauce of some kind and the best sweet potato known to humans ($36). As we were both full and high from eating the best meal we've had in our lives (and slightly tipsy but that's another story), we decided to split the seckel pears with pecan cream and hazelnut sablé ($12) for dessert. I don't even know what sablé is, but I do know that it's freaking delicious.

I also felt slightly saddened that I had to spend around $200 to eat local, farm grown food - stupid America (a fast-food nation, with small farms and our import/export markets destroyed by Wal-Mart- I'll stop and save it for another type of blog). I have to admit, eating this meal caused me to pity the people who will never get to try this food. My life before this meal was void and dark.. now, it has changed (but still a bit dark, I have a reputation to uphold). Anyway, check your couch for coins, sell some stuff on Amazon, and do some odd (or weird) jobs to save some money for a Blue Hill dinner. Hands down: Best Thing I've Ever Ate.


Blue Hill Farm
75 Washington Place
New York, NY 10011
(212) 539-1776
http://www.bluehillfarm.com/food/blue-hill-new-york

New Day, New Nonna

Sweet home, Staten Island. As some of you may be surprised to know Staten Island is not only the home of tan-orexics, thick accents, and the failed MTV show "Bridge and Tunnel"; it is also the home of some pretty fucking amazing food. That's right kids, I've always eaten better than you. My hometown has better food than whatever random place of origin you're from - deal with it. The quicker you accept this, the quicker we can move on.

Now, while there are a plethora of amazing restaurants, I'm going to focus this post on Enoteca Maria. The concept of this restaurant is pretty cool - every day of the week, a different Italian grandmother (nonna) cooks her specialities. Menus are specific to the nonna and the crop from their own BIODYNAMIC garden. Additionally, being true to word "enoteca", Italian for "wine repository", Enoteca Maria has an extensive wine list. No, I'm not joking. This place does exist and you should go there, now. Anyway, there are NINE different nonnas, all from different regions of Italy. While I'm always partial to Sicilian nonnas, Carolina from Calabria makes a veal dish that almost made my father cry. Enoteca Maria's food is plated for optimal sharing conditions which is perfetto considering you should try as many dishes as possible.

Take the free ferry and walk the two blocks for Nonna-licious food or they'll slap you with a wooden spoon.

27 Hyatt Street

NY 10301-1801

(718) 447-2777

*Walkable from the Staten Island Ferry!!*
http://www.enotecamaria.com/wp/

Grocery shopping the normal way

My Sicilian genes have given me curly hair, a yearning to farm eggplant, and an affinity for drinking copious amounts of vino. So, when I found out I could grocery shop while drinking a glass of Fontanafredda, I regained hope in humanity and cried tears of exaltation. After all, this store feels so normal to me - of course I should be able to munch on caponata while looking for truffle oil. Eataly combines my favorite things: drinking, eating, and buying things. The lovechild of Lidia Bastianich, Mario Batali, and Oscar Farinetti (or as I like to call them "two men and an awesome lady"), Eataly is not your ordinary market. Home to eleven restaurants, a shopping trip holds endless possibilities. Perhaps I will drink a Baladin Nora while picking up some slabs of formaggio... or maybe I'll check out the gigantic Barilla section while munching on some prosciutto di parma.. OR BOTH! Eataly, I salute you.

P.S. A birreria, or beer garden, is opening this spring - sunshine, Peroni, and antipasto misto anyone?



Eataly
200 5th Ave
New York, NY 10010

The Holy Grail

I want to write about Ippudo, but the line is too long and I don't want to promote any more patrons. So there. Um... it's horrible? I cannot even lie about this place... whatever I'm not providing the address SO THERE. Don't go.. but if you do bring me back one of everything.

I usually don't trust Gingers or anything to do with those sneaky bastards but.....

THE REDHEAD IS FANTASTIC! No, I'm not talking about an actual redhead since most of them scare me. I'm talking about The Redhead, an EV gastropub that features a delectable menu that adapts to chef's discoveries on a daily basis. The decor is adorable and would be perfect for a date, a dinner with friends, or an incestuous dinner-and-a-movie date with your sister (don't playa hate, appreciate). Our meal started off with homemade soft pretzels that come with a side of "Kentucky beer cheese". You may be wondering what exactly is Kentucky beer cheese but I don't know if words can adequately describe the perfect spreadable, well-balance cheese that accompanied the pretzels. Just know this, it's fucking awesome. For my main course I ordered the low country shrimp, anson mills antebellum grits, and andouille sausage. PERFECTION! I'm usually a bit weary about ordering grits since there are many possible horrible outcomes that may occur. However, these grits were perfectly creamy yet substantial. The seasoning in this dish took me right back to my time in New Orleans. My sister ordered the ridiculously good buttermilk fried chicken that was accompanied by the most perfect corn muffin mankind has ever known, and a small salad of spinach, strawberry, and almonds. Now, some of you may think fried chicken is beneath you. Good, then there's more for me; but, seriously, a well made piece of fried chicken is incredible and The Redhead did not disappoint.

The Redhead also makes bacon peanut brittle. Yes. BACON PEANUT BRITTLE. Furthermore, the restaurant recognizes that this is one of the best combinations ever and has packaged a sizable amount so that you can eat this wonderful, cardiac arrest inducing snack in the privacy of your own home! HOW THOUGHTFUL!

The Redhead

349 East 13th Street

(212) 533-6212

theredheadnyc.com